


Quiet Place

by paxbanana



Category: Mai-HiME
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 01:37:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10583700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paxbanana/pseuds/paxbanana
Summary: For Shizuru, survival was never an option. There should be no life beyond the hell that First District created in her. Natsuki begs to differ.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Funny what you can find on your harddrive when you look. Shizuru is a bit deeper than she seems in the series. Super weird and dark, but it is what it is.

It was an uneventful day. Shizuru held that thought in her mind and relished it with rueful self-awareness. Through her life, she’d learned the miracle of the mundane. She strove to be normal and boring, these six months since graduation and her return back to her mother in Kyoto.

She had invited a large group of friends over from the university the evening before because she’d been expected to, and now they all lazed around on the shaded front porch of her house, recovered from their hangovers but not the lethargy of that morning. Shizuru listened as one of the girls plucked a soft tune out on a guitar. Her fingers gently slipped through the softly curled fur at her dog’s ruff, and she felt the gentle ache of sunshine against her face against the slightly cool breeze of the morning.

“Shizuru-sama.” One of the servants awkwardly held out Shizuru’s cell phone. “There’s a nurse on the phone from Fuuka Hospital. She says you’re listed as a Kuga Natsuki’s next of kin.”

And just like that the universe reasserted its position over her back. The bottom dropped out of Shizuru’s stomach. Her reality dimmed out, and the next thing she was aware of, the phone was in her hand. “What’s happened?”

“Fujino Shizuru-san?”

“This is she. What’s happened to Natsuki?”

“She was involved in a motor vehicle accident. As her next of kin—”

“Will she be alright?”

“She’ll have to go into surgery this week to correct fractures in her left forearm. There is also a possibility of brain injury.”

“I’m on my way. If she wakes up, please tell her that.” Shizuru wheeled blindly, unable to find the woman who’d had her phone. “I need the car keys. And my purse.”

Shizuru’s mother was on the porch. Shizuru had no idea how long she’d been there. She was poised and immaculate in her blue kimono, though her face was drawn with concern. “You aren’t driving anywhere looking like that. What’s happened?”

“I need to get to Fuuka. My—” The words died on her lips. “She’s been hurt. That damn motorcycle.”

“I’ll drive us to the station. Is there anyone you should call?”

For once in her life, Shizuru snapped at her mother. “If you drive us, it’ll take two days to get there! I’ll drive. I _can_ drive!” Seeing her mother’s shocked expression—Shizuru knew better than to snap at her mother for any reason—she shrank. “Mama, please.”

“If my driving bothers you so, I’ll have Kazama-san drive you.” Then, true to form, Shizuru’s mother turned on her heel and flounced into the house.

Kazama materialized a moment later, precluding any offers of a ride by Shizuru’s guests, and a moment after that, another servant rushed out with a suitcase she’d packed with Shizuru’s clothes. Five minutes later, Kazama turned the car down the drive, and they were on their way to Kyoto station. Shizuru fumbled with her phone and called Reito, who called Mai, who, as it turned out, called Natsuki’s father. Shizuru hadn’t even known Natsuki had a father.

Brain damage, they’d said. But Natsuki was so strong, so vivacious. There was no way…

All of Shizuru’s thoughts eventually spiraled back to avoiding Natsuki’s calls, pretending not to care. She was lying to herself. All she had been doing was avoiding the pain of unrequited love, but compared with this empty chasm of simply not having Natsuki at all, Shizuru knew she’d take the pain. She was a fool, and now she was paying for it.

The train ride was agonizing, and when it finally arrived in Fuuka, Shizuru was so jittery she ran to the hospital on foot, gathering quite a few stares as she pushed past other pedestrians. The receptionist at the hospital was surprisingly helpful and directed Shizuru upstairs to the ICU—Intensive Care, god. Miraculously, it was visiting hours.

She barely heard the nurse’s words, only the doctor stepping out of a partitioned room and saying, “She’s asking for you—presuming you’re ‘That idiot, Shizuru’.”

Natsuki’s arm was propped up on her chest on a pillow. It was heavily casted up to her upper arm. Her eyes were swollen almost closed, and there were heavy bruises everywhere Shizuru looked. Her nose looked broken. “Shizuru.”

“I’m here.” Shizuru’s voice broke. Natsuki, her Natsuki, in so much pain, hurt so badly. Shizuru burst into quiet tears that she couldn’t swallow. She paced forward wordlessly and dragged up a chair so she could clasp Natsuki’s right hand in her own. It seemed like the only part of Natsuki’s body that wasn’t hurt—white and slender, such a womanly hand disregarding the fingernails chewed down to the quick. Desperately, Shizuru kissed that hand.

Natsuki heaved a sigh and stilled. Shizuru watched for a moment, terrified she was imagining the slow rise and fall of Natsuki’s chest.

* * *

By some godly miracle, the nurses didn’t make Shizuru leave Natsuki’s side when visiting hours were over. So she sat next to Natsuki’s bed all afternoon into the evening. Natsuki didn’t wake again until dinner time, and it was a relief to everyone that she was lucid, if in great pain. Mai arrived just as the tray of food was carried in, and she stood awkwardly behind Shizuru, surveying the damage. “I talked to your dad, Natsuki.”

Natsuki sighed. “Yeah.”

“He’s coming day after tomorrow. He had to catch a flight in from out of the country, but he said he’d be here late tomorrow night.”

“Thanks.” Natsuki fixed Shizuru with a look that was all obstinacy and said, “Get something to eat. Mai’ll help me.”

“It’ll be fine, Shizuru-san,” Mai supplied. “Run down to the cafeteria.”

She was loathed to do it, but Natsuki had asked. Shizuru stood in front of the food display and stared at the artificial pieces of…something behind the glass. She selected something rather like mush, sat down at a table by herself—away from the people wearing scrubs—and ate it in five minutes. She made some quick calls home, ignored her mother’s sniping questions, and asked a few friends to keep their notes handy for her for when she returned to class. Then, jittery from being gone only that long, she took the elevator back up to ICU. Natsuki was asleep, and she had eaten well, Mai proclaimed.

“I need you to do something for me,” Natsuki told her after she woke up later that night.

Shizuru had to temper her instinct to latch onto Natsuki’s hand. She’d held it most of the day, but Natsuki had tucked in into the sheets before she’d fallen asleep after dinner. She felt like she had to hold on to some part of her if only to keep her in that body. “Anything,” she said.

“Go to my apartment.” Natsuki swallowed. “There’s a gun sitting on the counter. Find a hiding place before my dad sees it. Okay?” She winced and stifled a moan.

“Do you want more pain medicine?”

Obstinacy swept Natsuki’s face, then she deflated and blinked out a slow stream of tears. “Yes.” It broke Shizuru’s heart. After she’d informed a nurse, she resumed her seat by Natsuki’s bed and said, “I’ll go there tonight. I don’t think they’ll let me stay with you.”

“Yeah, do that. There are…clean towels in the hall closet. I dunno about sheets; I changed them a few days ago. Use whatever you need.”

“Okay.” Carefully, Shizuru leaned over Natsuki and kissed her jaw. Natsuki sighed deeply at the gesture. “Good night, Natsuki.”

Natsuki nodded tightly and smiled, though that she was in severe pain was easy to see.

* * *

Natsuki’s keys had survived her accident. The apartment key had several smears of an indistinguishable dark stain speckled on them. Seeing it made Shizuru's gorge rise. She stared at it a long time before finally unlocking Natsuki’s apartment.

It was messier than Shizuru had last seen it. And, as Natsuki had told her, there was a handgun sitting on the counter in the kitchen. She knew how heavy it would be, how it would feel in her hand, and how to unload and disassemble it. For once in her life, she was grateful about something First District had taught her.

“Imagine that,” she murmured to herself.

With care, she pointed the gun at the floor and ejected the magazine. There were rounds inside. _Oh, Natsuki…_ What had she been doing to need a loaded semi-automatic weapon? Shizuru drew the slide back, and a round landed on the carpet. She repeated the action several times to make sure there were no more in the weapon. She picked it up and popped the round into the magazine and gazed down at the gun and ammunition, one in each hand.

Guns were such foolish weapons, instilling overconfidence. Shizuru remembered—though she desperately didn’t want to, wished she couldn’t—flicking the gun from a man’s hands. He’d just stood there and stared at her, frozen as if his very actions were dependent upon the gun he no longer held. He’d paid for it. So had many others, almost all of whom had carried and wielded a handgun against her. And yet she’d not been shot once. The closest they’d come to stopping her was a surprise attack with a switchblade.

Shizuru’s hands were numb. She realized she was squeezing the items in her hand so hard she felt her tendons groaning in the bony joints of her fingers. Slowly, she released her grip on the pistol and magazine, bringing in a rush of agony in her hands. She turned her mind elsewhere.

A hiding place… Surely under the sink cabinet, right behind Natsuki’s supply of tampons. The gun should be in a locked box as far as Shizuru was concerned. Why in the world did Natsuki have such a thing? A stupid question, one as stupid as wondering why she still remembered how to handle the gun. She'd never expected to survive the HiME war, and now she didn't know what to do with the knowledge given to her to help her survive.

Finally, a more pressing question came upon her:  Was Natsuki in danger?

* * *

The next morning, Shizuru paced in front of the ICU doors until they were unlocked. Natsuki wasn’t asleep, though she looked as though she wished she were. Despite that, her face shifted into a painful smile at the sight of Shizuru. “Hi.”

“Hi. You’re looking quite swollen this morning, Natsuki. Are you in pain?”

“I wish I could say I’m getting used to it. Did you take care of that thing?”

“I cleaned up your apartment,” Shizuru said lightly. There was no way to have the conversation she desperately wanted to have about that gun, especially with the door so wide open and hospital staff always on hand.

Natsuki swallowed. Her smile fell away. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I love you,” Shizuru reminded her quietly. “I couldn’t have stayed away.”

“You have since you left.”

It was a stab through Shizuru’s heart—rightfully so. She was guilty in every way. Shizuru leaned closer and lowered her voice further. She stared down at Natsuki’s hand clasped between hers. “I tried not to love you, but I couldn’t do that. So I left and I tried to stay away. But I can’t do that anymore. You’re stuck with me.”

Natsuki squeezed her hands. “Good to know. But that wasn’t fair, what you did.”

“Leaving? What was I to do? You found out how I feel and rejected me. We were always going to leave each other. I made the break early to save myself some pain.”

“I might change my mind.”

Shizuru’s heart jerked in hope and fear. It was unfair how happy and excited she felt at those words, against her own logic. “You told me ‘never’.”

Natsuki’s swollen face pulled into a suggestion of a frown. “Yeah, well, forgive me for thinking in absolutes right before death. I got about a day to get used to you being in love with me.”

Shizuru hadn’t thought of it that way, so caught up in her long-term unrequited love. “I…hadn’t considered it from that perspective.”

“I still wouldn’t know your feelings if you had any say on it, right?”

“Probably.”

Natsuki sighed, and her one clear, unswollen eye drooped. Shizuru thought she was going to sleep, but Natsuki’s lashes fluttered and she met Shizuru’s gaze in a surprisingly tender look. “You’re so beautiful. You smell good. I want to be around you. So is that attraction? I think I could get used to the thought of having sex with you.” Natsuki moved her hand from out of Shizuru’s slackened grasp and brushed her fingers across Shizuru’s breast. It was a shot of heat through her heart, embers in her belly.

Fire crept into Shizuru’s face—embarrassment and arousal. Which was inappropriate. Completely so. Natsuki was high on pain medicine. She’d had a near-death experience. Shizuru snatched the wandering hand back in her grasp firmly.

Natsuki grinned at her, which looked painful. “I bet you’re a good kisser. Will you kiss me again?”

Shizuru was going to die of blind hope. Tears rose to her eyes, but she forced them down and squeezed Natsuki’s hand. “Not right now.”

“I guess this isn’t the best setting. Later though?”

“If you want me to then, yes.”

Natsuki smiled. “I’ll hold you to it.” Then she asked, “Did you rape me?”

It was dizzying, terrifyingly painful. Shizuru thought she might vomit from that sledgehammer that struck her gut. Whatever heat was left in her face drained out, and she was cold to her bones. “ _What_?”

“Did you r—”

“ _No_! Why—why would you _ever_ ask that?! Why would you think it?!”

“Oh, good. I’d wondered…” Natsuki sighed and licked her lips. All Shizuru could think was: why did she ask _after_ she’d lit such hope in Shizuru’s heart?

“How could you want to be near me if you thought that?”

“I love you. Give me a kiss before I fall asleep.”

“But—”

“Please.” Natsuki’s voice had blurred in exhaustion. Shaking, still horrified by Natsuki’s question, Shizuru stood and leaned over her. She pressed a light kiss to Natsuki’s cheek, her heart thundering in shock and hope and anger.

“Thanks,” Natsuki mumbled. Then she was asleep. Shizuru wasn’t sure she would ever sleep again.

* * *

Despite her fears, that evening Shizuru fell almost immediately into a deep sleep. Maybe it was because she was surrounded by Natsuki’s scent in the warmth of her futon, maybe it was because she’d slept very little the night before. That gun plagued her thoughts, as did Natsuki’s horrible question, but it all melted away when she drew the covers over her head and buried her face into Natsuki’s pillow.

It seemed like only minutes later when she awakened, disoriented in the darkness that surrounded her. There was a shuffling noise, then the futon shifted—shifted as someone tried to get into it! Shizuru sat up and screamed out of pure stupefied reflex. The person who was trying to get into bed with her lurched backward and fell on his butt, screaming himself.

Shizuru rolled backwards out of bed; she tried on reflex to summon her element and panicked when she didn’t even feel a tingle of her old power. She tried to locate a weapon but the darkness that surrounded her was too heavy to distinguish anything, even the man who’d intruded. She was so disoriented she wasn’t sure where she was. But she knew she didn’t need anything but her hands to kill a man.

The man sat on the wooden loft floor and held a hand to his heart. His voice broke her out of the descending coolness that had stilled her thoughts. “Shit! I’m so sorry. I had no idea someone else was here!”

Just like that her cold intent snapped. She asked, “Who are you?”

“I’m Kuga Jun,” he said. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Shizuru laughed shakily despite herself. Of course Natsuki’s father wouldn’t know she was staying here. “I’m Fujino Shizuru. I’m here to be with Natsuki until she gets better.”

He heaved another sigh and collected himself. “Is she going to be okay? How is she acting?”

“Painful but lucid.”

The man sighed again and pressed his face into his hands. “Good.” Shizuru ignored that she could hear tears in his voice. “When are visiting hours?”

“At eight tomorrow morning. What time is it?”

“Four-thirty. I haven’t slept in two whole days, and I thought I wasn’t going to make it here. Now I’m wide awake.” He sighed and got to his feet. “I’ll sleep on the couch downstairs. I’m so sorry to have frightened you, Shizuru-san.”

* * *

She never did fall back asleep, though Jun began snoring almost as soon as he settled on the couch. She began to drift off, but Natsuki’s question came back at her: _did you rape me?_ Shizuru gave a stifled gasp and bit the pillow to ward off tears. At five thirty, Shizuru gave up on sleep and rest altogether. She changed into shorts and a t-shirt and pulled on her tennis shoes at the genkan.

The run did her good. It always seemed she could sweat out the bad, cleanse herself of negative thoughts and energies. She ran hard for at least six miles, twice as far as she usually ran in a day. As she jogged to cool off, blinking sweat from her eyes, she remembered that question again: rape, did you rape me, Shizuru? She staggered to a public trash can and vomited bile into it. Tears that came naturally from throwing up morphed into unchecked sobs of anger and frustration. Of shame. Natsuki had thought her capable of rape—capable of acting like she hadn’t. What did that say about Natsuki’s trust in her?

She staggered back up to the apartment a little after six-thirty. Jun was still asleep, which she was relieved to see. She took a bath, changed, started some coffee and fixed herself fish and rice and sliced tomato for breakfast. From the looks of Natsuki’s refrigerator, she’d been taking much better care of herself than her norm during middle school.

Jun gave an unhappy moan and rolled off the couch at seven, poured himself a cup of coffee, and disappeared into the bathroom. When he emerged, he looked slightly more civilized, and he bowed to Shizuru, introducing himself again. Natsuki seemed to have gotten most of her features from her mother, but she certainly got his eyes.

“I’m grateful she had someone to turn to in high school.” Jun paid for a newspaper on the walk to the hospital, and he folded it beneath his arm as they crossed a busy intersection. “She never forgave me for being away when she came out of her coma. I’m not sure I’ve forgiven myself. The fact that I’d remarried was insult to injury, I guess, though her mother and I had been divorced for a few years at that point.” His jaw tightened. “She’s just like me in that, I guess. It just so happens she resembles me in the worst ways.

“Regardless of that, I appreciate that you looked after her in high school. She wouldn’t let me. She wouldn’t even talk to me. Thanks for letting me know about this whole…incident.”

“I didn’t. It was Tokiha Mai, who you’ll probably meet today or tomorrow.”

He flushed red. “I’m so embarrassed. I assumed… Well, it stands that I’m happy Natsuki has you to look after her.” He winced unhappily. “I gave her that motorcycle. The Ducati. And now look what happened.”

“I actually believe that’s not the first one she’s owned.”

“Oh hell. I wish you hadn’t told me that.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the hospital. Inside the white austerity of the building, they dodged hospital volunteers and doctors on their trek to the ICU. Shizuru punched the ICU doors, and they checked in with the nurse on duty. At her stern glare, Jun doubled back to wash his hands.

Natsuki’s room was on the corner of the back hallway. It was relatively quiet back there aside from the white noise of the hospital monitors. For some reason the curtain had been drawn across the inside of the glassed room, and Shizuru felt a prickle of unease. The nurses seemed unworried so she forced her paranoia away.

“Is she being bathed or something?” Jun asked the man at the nurse’s station. He glanced up, looked in the direction of Natsuki’s room, and shook his head. Jun cleared his throat. “Maybe you better go first,” he told Shizuru.

If he was worried for his daughter’s sanctity, he had no idea. Oh, god, _did you rape me?_

As they brushed the heavy canvas curtain aside, Shizuru heard a familiar voice. Her heart fluttered to a stop, and tight, cold pressure closed around her throat. Guilt and fear all in one.

The man standing beside Natsuki’s bed looked up at her and smiled softly. “Baby girl,” he said. “I was hoping to see you.”

Shizuru couldn’t look into his eyes, nor could she look at Natsuki. She focused on Natsuki’s white-knuckled grip on the railing of her hospital bed. She watched it slacken in shock. “Papa,” she said softly. He stepped up to her, and at her flinch, kissed her forehead. “Shi-chan,” he said quietly. “I blame you for nothing. You’ll always be my daughter. Trust in that.” He drew up and reached out to shake Jun’s hand.

“I’m Saito Haru. I see you’ve met my daughter. After your daughter goes through surgery this afternoon, I’ll make sure she gets into a private room for the rest of her stay. If she or you want for anything please just ask a nurse, and we’ll do everything in our power to make you both comfortable.”

“Ah, Kuga Jun. To what do I owe this service?” Jun seemed uncomfortable.

“I’m afraid I owe a debt to your daughter. And my daughter will be happiest if your daughter is comfortable here. So it’s a favor to both our children.” Haru released Jun’s hand and patted Shizuru on the shoulder. “I have to go. We’ll get lunch, Shizuru.”

There was no disobeying that tone. “Yes, Papa.”

“Ah, right. Kuga-san, if you would walk with me. I need to discuss something with you.”

Jun hesitated, looked at his daughter in uncertainty, and then sighed as he followed Haru. When they’d left the room, Natsuki looked at Shizuru sharply. “Are you in trouble?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Shizuru retorted. “A gun, Natsuki? A loaded gun?”

“I’m not in trouble,” she snapped. “I was just… Shit, I sleep better with the damn thing around. Shizuru, your father _runs First District_?”

The chair was a solid weight beneath her. She hadn’t realized she’d lost her footing. “He told you?”

“He told me he was here to ‘offer an apology’ about my mother’s murder. He said he wasn’t in charge when that happened. Shizuru, why didn’t you tell me?”

She pressed her face into her hands, unable to face the pain and accusation in Natsuki’s tone. “How could I? They told me to not disclose who I was, and by the time I realized who you were, I learned about your mother’s death, and I’d already fallen in love with you. How could I tell you I worked for the same organization you wanted to destroy?”

“Oh hell,” Natsuki said. She sighed. “What’s he going to do? He’s not going to hurt you, is he?”

Shizuru shook her head. “He loves me. I know that. But I betrayed him in so many ways when I turned against First District. I’m so ashamed of myself.”

“Shizuru, I know he’s your dad, but he’s behind First District. Are you sure—?”

She lifted her head with the conviction of her feelings. “Natsuki, he doesn’t have to hurt me to ruin me. He supports my mother. If he were angry, he would have stopped that long ago. What did he say to you?”

“Just that thing about my mother. And he said not to be mad at you for anything. Not that I ever was.” Natsuki’s voice was muted. Then she laughed bitterly. “All that time I held back to protect you, and you probably knew more about what was going on than any of the other HiME.”

Shizuru winced and knew that was confirmation enough. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad. It’s just kind of ironic.”

Natsuki’s face wasn’t as swollen as it was the day before, but her skin had broken out into livid dark bruises. Her swollen eye had gone down some so she could crack it open. Her nose, which was as close to perfection as a nose could ever be, in Shizuru’s opinion, was now a slightly crooked and swollen perfection. “You really did a number on yourself.”

“It wasn’t me,” Natsuki mumbled defensively. “Some douche-bag ran the stoplight. I swerved into a ditch and went flying.”

“Your father’s upset because he gave you the bike. Just so you know.”

Natsuki rolled her eyes. “I’m crying over my father’s horrible guilty conscience. My dad’s a prick, Shizuru.”

“He came all this way to see you!”

“He’s a prick. I didn’t say he didn’t love me. I love him too, but I’m not going to lose any sleep over whatever culpability he thinks he has.” Natsuki cocked her head. “You promised me a kiss.”

“Under the appropriate circumstances,” Shizuru replied, flushing in anticipation. Right now was not a good time, not with Natsuki so obviously affected by pain medication. She shouldn’t want to kiss Natsuki this badly. That question still hovered in the back of her mind:  _did you rape me?_

“I broke my arm, Shizuru, not my mouth.” Natsuki tilted her head and leaned it back on the pillow, regarding Shizuru beneath her eyelashes. “I guess I’m not exactly my sexist right now.”

Shizuru buried her face in her hands. “It’s more a matter of this being the ICU of a hospital and that you’re obviously in pain and high on pain medication. So let’s postpone further discussion of this until after you go back home.”

“That had better be soon. I’m sick of this place.” Natsuki blinked, as if startled by a thought. “Does your father own this hospital too?”

“Yes,” Shizuru murmured. “He owns a few businesses of Fuuka.”

“So I guess First District’s destruction didn’t hurt him too badly financially.”

“I suppose not. I can’t say for sure, honestly. I’ve been avoiding him since… Well, since.”

“Did you…? Did you do what you did for me, because of what they did to my mother?”

Another question Shizuru didn’t want to answer. The truth was so ugly. “My thoughts were…illogical. I justified what I did, which at the time made sense but is so convoluted when I think back on it. I told myself it was for you, but my anger towards First District wasn’t just for your sake.”

“What do you mean?”

Shizuru took Natsuki’s hand in hers, cupped it, then released it in fear of tainting it somehow. “I was their pet as long as I can remember. They trained me, physically, mentally, emotionally to be a HiME. That training wasn’t…” She hesitated, uncertain how she could phrase it. “The training was the very reason I so easily lost myself, that I could kill other HiME’s Childs, that I could cut down non-HiME without thought.”

“They taught you how to kill.” Natsuki’s voice was toneless.

Shizuru nodded resignedly. “At least, they made it possible for me to do so.”

“And your dad was in charge during all this?”

“No. Not until I was in high school.”

“He put a stop to it. For you.” There was very little question in Natsuki’s tone.

“I think so, yes.”

“You know, I’ve killed before. Non-HiME, civilians, whatever you want to call them. I snooped in a lot of places where security was tight, and I couldn’t afford to be arrested. So they had to die.”

Shizuru shook her head, meeting Natsuki’s eyes. “Don’t pretend it’s the same.”

“Isn’t it?”

“How can you possibly compare us in that, Natsuki? When you so easily believed that not only did I rape you, I carried on as if I hadn’t, as if doing something like that wouldn’t wrack me with guilt?” Her voice rose, and she realized how betrayed she felt that Natsuki had believed it. She was unprepared for Natsuki’s voice to match hers in intensity.

“Yeah, well, you’ve never been particularly forthcoming, Shizuru, so don’t blame me when I can’t fucking figure your emotions out! You were in love with me all through high school, and I never had a clue!”

“Never?”

Natsuki hesitated. “I’m dense, but I’m not dumb. Put that aside, after the Carnival, you didn’t breathe a fucking peep about your feelings towards me. We were back at the friends-but-strangers routine. And then you were gone after graduation. You couldn’t get out of here, away from me, fast enough.” Natsuki’s voice wobbled as her anger slipped into pain. “Don’t you know you’re the most important person in my life? Do you have any idea how much it hurt me that you knew that, and that you loved me too, and you could leave just like that? It was like my dad, all over again.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You were a coward.”

“That isn’t fair!”

“How is it unfair?” Natsuki’s voice grew rough in her obstinacy.

“Because it isn’t just a love issue,” Shizuru snapped, her temper shortened as well. “It isn’t just a boy being rejected by the girl he loves or vice versa. It was me, a girl, being rejected by you, another girl. Am I supposed to fight for you when you’ve given no indication of feeling what I do, fighting for your feelings when the majority of the people that I know and love would think me a freak of nature for that alone?!”

“Wait, what?” Natsuki’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “You’re saying that you being gay makes a difference? Oh, wow. All that stuff you said about your ‘perverted feelings’, that was just you being homophobic.”

“As if you have any idea how it feels—”

“When I think about you, it doesn’t feel like I’m being unnatural or whatever. I love you, Shizuru. _Deal with it_!”

This was not at all what Shizuru wanted to happen between them. She was so angry she saw red. Trembling, feeling tears of rage rise to her eyes, she choked down her frustration. “I think,” she said very quietly, “that I should leave right now. I’ll be back after your surgery. Have the nurses call me if you need anything.”

Natsuki’s face was flushed in similar emotion. Her mouth had tightened in a familiar display of obstinate anger. “Fine.” Then, as Shizuru stepped out of the room, “Be careful at lunch.”

Shizuru could only manage a jerky nod.

* * *

Saito Haru was a tall man; his mother’s Swedish blood was betrayed through the shape of his face and his hair color. Shizuru took after him in everything but her mannerisms, all learned from the strict grace of her mother. They shared some unconscious movements, or at least Shizuru’s mother claimed so. Shizuru didn’t give much stock to her mother’s musings; she usually compared Shizuru to her father when she missed the man. It was as if to say, ‘You are, simply to suggest I am forever linked to him’.

Haru had never treated her any differently than a man would treat his daughter. Shizuru suspected her half-siblings wouldn’t give her the time of day, but Haru had always been a steady and, if not constant, certainly expected part of her life as she grew up. She’d never wanted for anything, and she’d never imagined at any point that he didn’t love her.

Which made facing him now all the worse.

He stood as she stepped into the private room he’d rented at a restaurant just down the street from the hospital. His posture was expectant, but Shizuru couldn’t bear to approach him. Finally, she took a seat when he gave up and motioned to a cushion on the floor. Tea sat steeping in a pot, and Shizuru reached out to pour it. When the spout rattled on her cup, she set it down again lest she break the pot because of her shaking grip.

“Shizuru.” Haru’s voice was hushed with love. “I don’t know why you’re so frightened.”

“You know what I did,” she whispered back, though her voice was shaking with horror. “You know that I killed all those people.”

“Not one of them didn’t deserve it.”

She jerked her head up and met her father’s eyes, horrified by what he’d said. Haru put his hand gently over her shaking fists and squeezed. His voice went low and quick in sharp fervor. “They worked for an organization that tortured you, that experimented on you, that trained you to be exactly what you were. They created that part of you, and they broke something in you when they did. It was only right that they were destroyed by it. I’m only sorry that you feel such responsibility. They don’t deserve it. Not your guilt or a second thought.”

“You weren’t there,” she gasped. “They pleaded for mercy. They asked—”

“Listen to me,” Haru snapped. “To work in that organization meant they weren’t worth a fucking thought.” Shizuru gasped, shocked to hear those terms come from her father’s mouth. “You’ve got to let it go. I would have killed them all myself if I’d had the means, and I’m glad they’re dead. I’m glad their last moments were in terror.”

Shizuru sobbed so hard she gagged. Haru’s arms went around her shoulders. He hushed her and Shizuru rocked into his body. “You’re my baby girl. And I—” He broke off, gasping. “I let them do that to you. I should have known something wasn’t right by how you acted, but I was too busy, too selfish.”

“No, Papa. No.”

“Shizuru, I took over First District to destroy it.”

“But you saw, Papa! You saw how I murdered them!”

“I told you. They made you that way. And by god, you’re not to blame.”

Shizuru could say no more and she broke down into harsh tears. Sometime in the midst of her grief, she remembered:  _Did you rape me?_ She cried all the harder, thinking that Natsuki was justified to think that, wasn’t she? After she’d broken down and destroyed Yukino and Nao’s Childs, she’d systematically destroyed the two sectors of First District, then she’d attacked Natsuki herself. Only during the last she’d been clear-headed.

“Shizuru, if you’re worried about civilians, you should know they’d been tracking you from the start. They knew when you’d arrive, and they evacuated everyone except a security force to protect the property and files of the organization. And it wasn’t murder—not when they’d set up an aggressive defense at the start. Not when they each carried a firearm and used live ammunition.”

A great bursting weight lifted from Shizuru’s shoulders. She met her father’s eyes. Haru smiled at her a little sadly. “Does that make you feel better?”

“Oh.” Shizuru gasped in relief. Somehow there was a difference, and it was huge. She shivered into her relief, relaxing into her father’s gentle embrace. They simply sat together, enjoying each other, until finally Haru sat up and poured them both some tea. It had begun to cool, and it was brackish from steeping for so long, but for the first time since the Carnival Shizuru could take joy in tasting it.

“How is your mother doing?” Haru asked her at last; his voice was rough from his tears.

“Well. She’s worried about me, and she misses you.”

Haru’s smile was rueful. “I’m afraid I couldn’t bear to go to her; I thought you were avoiding me because you blamed me.”

“No, Papa.”

He waved her off, smiling into his cup. “Of course. I know now. I was thinking I’d go home with you. Maybe stay for a few weeks. Would she like that?”

“Very much.”

“Would you like that?” It was a more pointed question.

“Yes, Papa.”

“Oh, my girl.” He sighed and smiled at her. “I know I’m not supposed to have a favorite, but you are mine, baby girl.” He touched her hair. “I knew I loved your mother, but to have a child with her… And yet I’ve never once regretted you. You’re a piece of joy in this tired world of mine.”

“I love you.”

He kissed her forehead. A waiter discreetly entered, and Haru ordered for them both. Shizuru was far hungrier than she’d have imagined that morning. They polished away a good bit of their meal before Haru spoke again. “And Natsuki… She’s your Number One?”

Shizuru jerked her eyes up, horrified by the implication. But she couldn’t lie; not to her father. Her voice was very small, “I’m gay.”

Haru smiled gently. “Well, I approve. She told me to fuck off and leave you alone, and if I didn’t, she’d shoot my balls off.”

Shizuru burst into a fresh round of tears, relief so strong she wasn’t sure she could breathe again. Haru once again pulled her to him.

* * *

Uncertain over how she would find Natsuki, Shizuru first peeked into her hospital room. Mai had called her and told her she and Natsuki’s father would sit with her until she was lucid after the surgery, so it was evening visiting hours before Shizuru could make herself go back. She wasn’t sure how she could face Natsuki after losing her temper the way she did.

“Excellent,” she heard Natsuki say to the nurse. “More tasteless meat and rice, with sugarless jello to finish.”

After the nurse passed Shizuru at the door, Shizuru said, “You should see what they have to eat in the cafeteria.”

Natsuki glanced up and saw Shizuru. It was hard to tell what her expression was; her face was still a little swollen and her bruises had a deep brown tone. Her eyes searched Shizuru’s face. “I guess it went okay?”

She nodded as she sat, taking a deep breath to sigh out. She still felt varying peaks of guilt and relief. She clutched the box of leftovers to her stomach, forgetting why she had them. “I… I’ve.” Then her eyes filled. “My father still loves me, and he never blamed me.”

“I never did either.”

Shizuru jerkily met Natsuki’s eyes, and Natsuki reached out with her right hand and slipped it into Shizuru’s.

“I never blamed you for anything I thought you did. I’m sorry if it seems like I didn’t trust you, but you’ve got to admit, you’re kind of an enigma. You always masked what you felt, and just a few weeks ago, I thought about it and I realized I didn’t know a damn thing about you. I know your name, your age, your accent, what you smell like, but I didn’t have a clue about your family or your favorite color or if you like to watch sports.”

Shizuru couldn’t help her smile, despite her unease at the first truth she would give. “My father is a cliché entrepreneur. He’s half-Japanese, half-Swedish. My mother was a geisha whom he supports. And I happened.” She quickly continued. “I don’t have a favorite color. And I follow baseball.”

“Puro Yakyuu, huh?” Natsuki asked. Her voice was subdued, and she pointedly didn’t ask about Shizuru’s familial situation, which was a relief. “I guess I should start watching it again.” Her eyes sharpened as she looked at the Styrofoam box in Shizuru’s lap. “Is that food? Real food?”

“Oh, yes. I brought it for you.” Shizuru pushed Natsuki’s cafeteria tray aside and opened the top of the take-out box. Natsuki moaned piously at the smell of the food and reached shakily for the chopsticks. She winced as she shifted her casted arm in the sling, but that didn’t deter her from her goal.

“Good?”

Natsuki nodded as she took her first bite. She was quiet as she ate. Finally, when she finished, she heaved a sigh of pleasure. “It’s kind of nice not to feel bones grinding together whenever I move my arm. I’m bionic woman now.” She smiled painfully. “Mai finally let me look in the mirror.” Her eyes welled with tears, and Shizuru leaned forward in alarm. “I didn’t know I broke my nose.” Then, finally, Natsuki hiccoughed up some sobs.

“It’s not a bad break,” Shizuru murmured, squeezing Natsuki’s hands. “Your nose is still lovely.”

“I’m all swollen, and my lip is busted up. I didn’t realize how awful I look. B-but my nose…”

“Natsuki, you’re beautiful. That hasn’t changed.”

“I like my nose,” Natsuki mumbled in a small voice. A place in Shizuru’s chest twisted up tight at the sweet childishness of her tone. She wanted to gather Natsuki close and hold her. It struck her once again that Natsuki might be dead now, that this accident could have caused lasting damage. She dipped her head and kissed Natsuki’s knuckles.

Immediately, Shizuru realized how awkward her gesture was, but before she could think of how to fix her breach of contact, Natsuki’s thumb rubbed over her cheek. She met Natsuki’s eyes, shocked by the gentle gesture, and it was a striking moment. Their eyes met and held, and the world seemed to drop away as they just looked, seemingly connected by their gazes.

Their connection broke sharply when the nurse reentered Natsuki’s room. “Oh, that’s naughty,” she said jovially. “Non-hospital food, huh? I won’t tell the doctor this time around, I guess.”

Shizuru blushed hotly, her hands and mouth tingling from earlier contact with Natsuki’s skin. She didn’t dare look at Natsuki again, and they sat in awkward silence even after the nurse left them and closed the door.

“Do you—would you like to come home with me?” Shizuru blurted abruptly. She continued, uncharacteristically agitated. “They said they wanted to keep you overnight, and tomorrow you should probably rest at home, but Thursday…”

“Home? Like, to Kyoto?”

“At least until you can take care of yourself,” Shizuru said.

Natsuki gave her an oddly shy look. “Yes.” She paused. “Your mother isn’t scary or anything, is she?”

Shizuru felt a bubble of laughter rise in her chest. She imagined her mother, small and graceful, stern but loving, and shook her head. “No, she’s not scary. She won’t mind. If she does… It’s a very big house.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” Natsuki muttered sarcastically.

* * *

Natsuki needn’t have worried. Shizuru’s mother was so happy to see Haru that Shizuru probably could have come out to her and it would have blown over with a, “that’s nice, sweetheart”. After she hugged Shizuru and drew Haru into a long, emotional embrace, Shizuru’s mother bowed to Natsuki. “Please, call me Ruri-san.”

Natsuki bowed shakily back, wincing as her casted arm shifted in its sling. She was pale, standing on the porch of Shizuru’s house. The train ride down to Kyoto had taken everything out of her. “Thank you for opening your home, Ruri-san. I’m Kuga Natsuki.”

Ruri asked her, “Would you like dinner, Natsuki-chan, or would you prefer to go to bed?”

“Please, just ‘Natsuki’. Bed,” Natsuki said faintly. Shizuru took her arm and helped her through the door. At the door, Saru-chin wriggled around on the floor, panting, tail wagging, and so pleased to see Shizuru. That put a smile on Natsuki’s face. “Oh, what’s his name?”

“Her name is Saru-chin.”

Natsuki turned that soft, exhausted grin to Shizuru. “Saru-chin, huh? You must be a good girl,” she told the dog. Saru obediently followed them as they wandered back through the wide house. Shizuru steered them into the bedroom next to her own. She pushed back the comforter and helped Natsuki—who was so tired she was completely unabashed when Shizuru helped her undress—slide in the futon.

“Can you stay awake for a few more minutes?”

Natsuki sighed, settling her arm over a pillow. “Dunno. I need to take some more pain pills.”

“Can you wait until I get you a little bit of dinner? Is toast and soup okay?”

Natsuki nodded, her eyes closed. Saru-chin hopped up onto the futon and lay down at the foot of it, her dark eyes watching Shizuru warmly. “I’ll be right back.”

A few minutes later, Natsuki sipped at her soup and ate a few bites of toast. Shizuru handed her a pain pill and her drink, and Natsuki took it. She sighed and melted back into her pillows, immediately asleep. Shizuru set the glass and medication on the bedside table and turned off the light. Saru slid off the bed and padded after Shizuru.

She went back downstairs and peeked into the dining room. Haru and Ruri were waiting for her, seated at the edges of the table within. “How is Natsuki-chan?” Haru asked.

Shizuru slid beneath the table and reached for a serving dish. “Asleep.”

“Is she a friend of yours from Fuuka, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Momma.”

Ruri raised an eyebrow, prompting more information. Shizuru ignored that cue. Haru gave a quiet laugh. “She’s a second year at Fuuka High School.”

“A kohai?” Ruri murmured. “How did you meet?”

“We came upon each other at the director’s garden. We’ve known each other for a few years,” Shizuru replied.

“And what does Natsuki like to do?”

What an odd question. So much of both of them had been defined by what they did as HiME, and now that they no longer had that, what did they fill their lives with? Did Natsuki have a gaping hole in her self-concept the same way that Shizuru did? She wasn’t sure how to answer.

Haru jumped in. “I believe Natsuki-chan owns a motorcycle, does she not?”

“That damn motorcycle,” Shizuru mumbled.

She glanced up and was startled by her mother’s knowing gaze studying her. Surely Ruri couldn’t guess Natsuki’s role in Shizuru’s life? Ruri held her gaze for a long uncomfortable moment before she turned to her food. Her tone was casual as she said, “Well, she seems like a nice young woman. I hope she can recuperate here. Shizuru-chan, you do plan to go back to class tomorrow?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“I think you should,” her mother supplied without any real heat in her voice. “So you don’t fall behind.”

“I should be fine.”

“No doubt, Miss Valedictorian,” Haru teased gently. “But I think Natsuki will need her rest and she’ll probably do better in a very boring household without you in it for the afternoon.”

Shizuru couldn’t stop her blush, but she prayed it was faint enough that her mother didn’t notice it.

“And how long will you be staying, darling?” Ruri asked, placing a hand on his sleeve. Haru took Ruri’s hand in his own and smiled at her. “I should be able to work from here for several weeks.” They smiled at each other, and Shizuru felt an odd jerk of regret that there were so few times in her life it had been like this: knowing she would see her mother and father the next day and the next.

“If Natsuki-chan is feeling better on the weekend, we should drive into the city and see a play. Megi-chan can probably get us tickets to see the Snow Troupe’s musical.” Ruri turned her happy smile to Shizuru. “I know how much you enjoy the Takarazuka, sweetie.”

Takarazuka…? She hadn’t seen a Takarazuka play since middle school. Why would her mother mention it now? Shizuru felt stupid for being so paranoid. “Or a baseball game,” she offered. “I think Natsuki likes baseball, and Kyoto’s team is in town for the Saturday night game.”

“I’m sure I can get us tickets.” Haru laughed. “You two will be spoiling me, thinking I’m on vacation.”

“Why not, darling? I like you to enjoy your time here. I’d like you to think of it as home.”

“Home is where my beautiful daughter and her mother are,” Haru said, reaching out to take Shizuru’s hand. This was all becoming alarmingly emotional, and Shizuru hated the tightness in her throat signaling incumbent tears. She hated feeling so transparently vulnerable…so _weak_. It was in pure defense that she fought against her emotions. Shizuru squeezed her parents' hands and quickly disengaged. “I should try to get some work done before I go to bed.”

“Can you do it in the living room with us, sweetie?”

“I need a little bit of time by myself.”

Ruri and Haru both seemed disappointed, but her father drew her into a hug and kissed her head gently. “Remember what I said,” he said quietly. “There’s no blame, none, and I love you. I will always love you.”

She managed to keep her tears bottled up tight until after her mother kissed her goodnight and she was upstairs in her room. Then she betrayed a few sobs under her covers in the dark, alone and safe.

* * *

Her parents were both downstairs at the kitchen table when she went down the next morning. Haru rattled his paper and asked her if Natsuki was awake yet. Shizuru had opened the door quietly just a minute before, but Natsuki hadn’t moved under the covers. Saru, who’d stayed with Natsuki all night, had gotten up and come downstairs with her. “No, not yet.”

“Are you going for a run?”

“Yes, Mother. Saru-chin!”

Her dog was up on her feet, tail wagging. She gave one bark in delight when Shizuru clipped her leash on. They paused at the bottom of the porch steps for Saru to squat in her customary place. Haru stepped out with a plastic bag, motioning for Shizuru to go ahead on her run.

Then they were out, jogging up the old path through the woods that surrounded her mother’s house. Technically Shizuru was trespassing on commercial property as she jogged a mile deep into the path, but as always, she ignored the NO TRESPASSING sign and continued on the loop, which brought her out onto a mowed pasture that wrapped around her mother’s property. Shizuru picked up her pace, Saru panting beside her, as they ran along the line and then ducked back into the woods on a longer path. She pushed herself to run that full extra mile loop.

Panting, her mind blank, feeling alive and fresh, she jogged to cool down and stretched on the porch of her mother’s house. Saru plopped down, panting as well. When Shizuru unclipped her, the dog went through her dog door and began to lap noisily at the water in her bowl.

The door opened. Shizuru sighed as she pressed her hot, sweaty forehead to her knees.

“I didn’t know you ran.”

She glanced up. Natsuki looked like she felt better. She was showered and dressed, but she sat down gingerly on the porch swing, gripping a coffee mug with one hand. Shizuru slowly sat up. “Yes. Now that I’m not chasing Orphans around. What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty.”

“I’ll be late. My first class is at nine-thirty.”

“How long will you be gone?” Natsuki followed her into the house.

“I should be back by four unless I miss the early train.” Shizuru raised her eyebrows as Natsuki stepped into her room, set down her coffee cup, and turned back to close the door. “What is it?”

“You owe me a kiss, remember?”

Shizuru was flabbergasted. “What, now?!”

Natsuki had the decency to blush, which made her a sudden dubious temptation. “Yes, now,” she said almost sulkily. She stepped forward. Shizuru swallowed and had to concentrate on not backing up. “I’m sweaty and disgusting.”

“I bet you taste salty,” Natsuki said, blushing harder. Shizuru was too scared to even consider pointing the blush out. Natsuki was well in her personal bubble now, and she reached up with her right hand to trace the line of Shizuru’s jaw. “You’re so…earthy like this. So real.”

“That’s funny, because you’re very surreal to me right now,” Shizuru said.

“Shizuru, shut the hell up.” Natsuki’s grip changed, and Shizuru ducked her head at the gentle suggestion of that hand, and their lips touched. It was a light kiss, but it sent tingles across Shizuru’s entire face. Then their mouths fitted back together more tightly, and the friction of it was more stimulation on Shizuru’s nerves that she’d have ever imagined. Natsuki gave a soft surprised noise, and her fingers dug into the sweaty hair at the nape of Shizuru’s neck, and their mouths were open, and Natsuki’s tongue was in her mouth, and…

“Ow!”

Shizuru wrenched her arms away from where she’d dragged Natsuki into a hugging embrace and put pressure on her broken arm. “I’m so sorry. Natsuki, I—”

Natsuki licked her lips, looking dazed. “You do taste like salt.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, I mean, yes, but it was just for a second.” Natsuki stepped closer. This time, Shizuru couldn’t curb her need to take a step back. She ended up half-sitting on her bed. Thankfully it was western-style or she would have broken something in the process. Natsuki sat down on her left, her broken arm angled away. “This is better.”

They were kissing again, and Shizuru was dazed. Dazed as she slipped her tongue into Natsuki’s mouth to memorize the taste and texture of Natsuki. She imagined, briefly, what it would be like to do this in another way—in another place—and Natsuki made a surprised noise, drawing away. “Woah,” Natsuki said, leaning back to touch her mouth. “I thought they made all this crap up.”

“What?” Shizuru sounded like an idiot.

“The tingles and the…” Natsuki blushed. “The other stuff. I feel like shit generally, but that still felt…mm.” She frowned abruptly. “Have you done this a lot?”

“What?”

“Kissing people. Sex.”

“No.” Shizuru placed a trembling hand against Natsuki’s neck, touching her to be sure this was all real. Who was this confident young woman? Had Natsuki changed so much in just the few months they'd been apart? Natsuki smiled and covered her hand. “Good.” She squeezed faintly, then drew Shizuru’s hand away, standing up.

“Where are you going?”

“You’re going to be late.”

“Late?”

Natsuki laughed, taking a step back. “Shizuru, you are the most organized, put together person I have ever met. Did I just break you somehow?”

“Late,” Shizuru repeated, blinking over at her clock. She stared, startled. It had been half an hour since she’d finished her run. Had they been kissing that long? “Yes, I will. I… Natsuki…” She stood up, and Natsuki stepped close again to give her a quick peck on the cheek.

“Natsuki,” she said again as the door closed.

Shizuru turned wild eyes around her room, expecting to see something that would prove she was in an alternate dimension. What had just happened?

* * *

Her day at school was fairly uneventful, though she had difficulty focusing on her classes. She was floating in a fog made up of thoughts of Natsuki, Natsuki’s kisses, and more Natsuki. That fog followed her home. The grounds were surprisingly quiet, and there was an odd car parked in the driveway. Her father could have exchanged his rental for another, her preoccupied mind supplied.

She opened the door even as prickles of unease raised the hair on her neck. There were three people standing on the inner porch: three young Japanese men in loud suits. The one in the middle shot her in the chest.

Out of instinct, Shizuru muffled her own scream. Her muscles clenched simultaneously, and the men were on her quickly, cuffing her hands in front of her. The man with the taser pressed it against her back and pulled the trigger, paralyzing her. She was helpless as two of the men grabbed her under the armpits and dragged her to the sitting room.

Her family wasn’t here. There was no sign of the men’s presence except for a few cans of open beer on coffee table. A quiet part of Shizuru wondered at what her mother would think of canned beer in her household. Then she saw Saru-chin lying in the hallway. There was blood underneath her golden fur, and she was still only the way dead things were. These men had killed her dog.

Darkness crept into the corners of her vision, and noise softened faintly.

“Prettier than I expected,” the man with the snake tattoo on his neck said. He put his foot against her stomach and rolled her onto her back. The three men stood over her as big, dark presences, and their eyes flickered over her body.

“Let’s have some fun before we take her in,” the man with the taser said. He saw she was looking at him and made a lewd gesture with his tongue. The third man, a short but incredibly muscled man, shrugged. That was all it took for them to decide on their next step. Shizuru wasn’t surprised. These were yakuza, only loyal to the thought of drugs, money, or fucking. Apparently money wasn’t their aim, and there were no drugs in the house.

Where was her family?

Shizuru couldn’t distinguish the leader of the group. The man with the snake tattoo up his neck pulled out his phone and had a short conversation, but the man who held the taser had an air of authority he carried about like a peacock.

“I love having a little fun during work. Why all work and no play, huh?” The man who spoke carried the taser. Shizuru focused on the weapon when he settled on one knee next to her. He grinned as he pulled the trigger, watching the charges jolt between the prongs.

He smiled at Shizuru and touched the taser gently to her cheeks. He brushed it across her mouth, ran it across both her breasts, then put the taser between her legs. He pulled the trigger.

It was sharp pain on and in her sex, and Shizuru’s body jolted, muscles tightening in a massive cramping sensation as he tasered her. She didn’t scream; there was no point.

Taser stopped his assault for a moment. He rubbed his crotch against her leg so she could feel his erection and began to whisper in her ear, squeezing her crotch with his hand. Shizuru turned her head and watched the other men. Snake Tattoo had a knife in his left front pocket; he stood closest, three meters away. His hand cupped the front of his pants, and she wondered if this duo had a routine to rape women. The third one, a hulky man with not an ounce of extra fat on him, didn’t seem to be armed; he was behind the couch, studying an oil painting on the wall. Apparently not a part of the gangbang.

Taser panted on her shoulder, rocking against her.

There was a slow settling of her mind into something easy, something calm. Seeing Saru had started her off, but now she was well seated. The fact these men wanted to rape her didn't frighten her or give her pause. She saw weapons scattered across the room: a lamp, a paperweight, the katana on the wall, her own body. These men would die. And she would choose how.

She moved, a small protest, and he tasered her again. When Taser let off this time, he drew back, reaching to down to fumble with his slacks. It was what she’d wanted, and she laughed out of sheer pleasure for the energy that moved through her. He looked up, startled, and she smashed her heel into his face. The taser spun across the room, and Taser lifted his hands to his face and grunted as blood spurted from his nose.

Snake Tattoo turned, but she was on her feet. He rocked forward to strike her, but she seized his fist and swung her leg up and around it, snapping the ligaments in his elbow like rubber bands. He screamed and fell, clutching at it.

Shizuru kicked his broken arm and reached down to yank the knife from his pocket. Snake Tattoo didn’t disappoint: it was a switchblade. The blade snapped out with just a touch, and she turned just in time dodge one, then two windmill swings by Muscles. It was the easiest thing in the world to put the little knife deep into the Muscle’s belly: through skin, though muscle, through fascia and viscera. She grinned at him as she yanked the blade up to lay his belly—so soft, so easy, smooth as butter—open to the xyphoid, though the blade lodged into the bone there. He gave an inhuman shriek and staggered away, shakily reaching out to push white lacy omentum and pink intestine back into his abdomen.

Shizuru heard the sound of a katana grinding against its sheath. One of the men had noticed the katana as well. She rolled and turned to face her opponent. It was Snake Tattoo, swinging the blade around haphazardly with his left arm while his right was clutched to his body. She dodged each foolish swing easily.

There was a paperweight on the coffee table next to her. Shizuru picked it up and threw it. The weight struck Snake Tattoo in the cheek, breaking the bone there, and his eye drooped within its socket. He had a choice, and he made the instinctual one: drop the katana and reach for his ruined face.

The katana was hers.

Taser reached for her as she picked it up, and she put the blade through his shin. He let go of her leg with an animal squeal.

Snake Tattoo staggered backwards and tripped over Taser’s arm. He scrambled to his knees to stand and run. Shizuru was almost sorry to stop this comedy of errors. She planted one foot and swung the katana is a neat arch. Snake Tattoo’s head flopped forward into his chest as the rest of him flopped to his knees. As his blood gushed—audible arterial pulses—Shizuru laughed in delight. She’d never had a chance to try a beheading with a katana, and yet here, with her hands bound, she’d managed what many samurai used to consider an artform.

Taser gave a moan. He was scrambling backwards away from her. Shizuru put the katana tip-down into the floor through lower abdomen. His movement stopped immediately, and he shrieked. She crouched down and let him see her smile. “It’s time to have some fun,” she told him.

Behind her, Muscles began to gasp short moans. She left Taser where he was and went to Muscles, finding the key to her handcuffs in his pocket. She unlocked her wrists, which were chaffed from the metal and told him, “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to cut through your diaphragm. But as things are…” She wrenched the knife from his sternum with a shocking flow of blood—liver perhaps?—and put it between his left fifth and six ribs. She let go of the knife and watched the handle twitch with his heartbeat. He clutched at her, and she looked into his eyes as he died.

In that moment of stillness, an extra awareness seemed to settle over her. Life became more than killing. She could feel her body again. Her hands were wet with sticky blood that was just beginning to dry. No other liquid in the world felt quite like blood seeping between the cracks in her joints to stain her hands. Nothing else matched the stale musky scent of it.

Finally, Shizuru became aware of Taser on the floor behind her, screaming animal screams of terror and pain. Before, his cries were like a faint background hum while she was in the quiet place. Now his shrieks broke through her awareness. Despite herself, she felt a part of her psyche understand his screams. She realized she couldn’t kill him though. She’d left him alive for a reason; she would need his information.

Shizuru pulled the knife from Muscles’ chest—ignoring the grinding sensation as the blade scored across a rib—and went to Taser. She went on one knee; his hand rested on her knee in a faint, weak touch of pain and horror. She slapped him and showed him the knife. She smiled, an expression she knew would scare him more than a scowl. “I want you to think of all the things I can remove from your body without killing you. Think on it hard while I think of questions I want answered. Do you understand?”

He sobbed and nodded.

* * *

Blood swirled down the drain. The water was hot against her skin, but Shizuru shivered as she came back into herself. Her hands were sticky with blood. She wasn’t sure how so much had gotten on her; she wasn’t injured at all. Her memory of the last hour was vague, but she knew enough to know what she had to do next.

All of her phone calls to her family and Natsuki went straight to voicemail. They’d been taken.

Searrs Foundation… Searrs Foundation had taken her family and Natsuki. So she had to take them back.

She wanted to stand in the shower for hours and let the hot water slowly replace the blood that was stuck in the cracks of her fingers…but time was of the essence. Shizuru got out of the shower, chose her clothes, and did a cursory search on her phone for the facility that her family was held captive in. She doubted she would retrieve them in transit. No doubt she’d have to intercept them before the plane left…if there was a plane. This all felt like a trap.

She had no choice though.

A knife, a handgun, a rifle. Extra ammunition. It would have to be enough.

A phone call through to First District to leave a message for cleanup, then into her car.

Time to spring the trap.

* * *

There was a cliff overlooking the little airport. Shizuru set up her rifle and studied the grounds through the scope. Her shots would be a little over one hundred meters, but she could probably hit her targets with this weapon. Her father used it to hunt, and she was doing the same.

There were eight men on site from what she could see, but likely more within the terminal. There weren’t any airplanes in view, so her family was probably within the terminal awaiting her arrival. A cold prick of dread supplied that they might already be gone.

Shizuru considered her options as she tracked the men. Pick off who she could from this distance, expect them to take cover in the hanger, and presume she could survive those that would wait for her. She needed to get inside. There was no other option.

The first shot was easy—no one was moving quickly. The bullet passed through the man’s chest. She swept her scope to pick off another man who was approaching the first she’d killed. A third fell running to take cover on the wrong side of a truck. A fourth and fifth died opening the hangar door.

That left three—two of which she eventually picked off when they ran from cover to the hangar. The last one she clipped on the arm, but he made it inside without dying.

Shizuru removed the magazine of her rifle and put it in her pocket, clicking out the chambered round too. She tucked the handgun in her waistband and slid down the cliffside to scale the fence and drop down to the ground.

She tried the door on the other side of the hangar and shot the lock out when the handle didn’t budge.

There was a man inside, and he lifted his gun before she could pull the trigger. “Why don’t we both set down our weapons?”

She could shoot him in the head before he thought to shoot her, but she needed his information. What she wasn't sure of was why he didn't kill her outright. “Where are they?”

“Safe. In the city, actually.”

Shizuru looked at him, and he held up a cell phone. “I’m going to throw this to you across the ground.” He did so, and she put her foot over the phone. “Call your father. Go on.”

She kept him down her sites as she dialed her father’s cell phone. “ _Baby girl,_ ” he said, picking up on the first ring.

“Where are you?”

“ _Driving out of Kyoto. Your mother wanted to meet you here for dinner, but you haven’t been picking up your phone.”_ He lowered his voice. _“They told me you called First District.”_

“I’m fine. Running an errand. Be safe. There may be a mess at home. Don’t let Mother walk in without checking first.”

_“Shizuru—”_

She hung up the phone and studied the man across from her. He was a white man who spoke barely accented Japanese. He wore a suit and tie and had the looks of a professional. A bland face, easily forgettable. “Who are you?”

“I was sent by John Smith to recruit you. My name is James Smith, and I work for an organization that First District would have sold you to if your own father hadn’t taken the company.”

“Sold.”

James opened his hand and set his safety on. He tossed the gun away and then motioned for Shizuru to do the same. She glanced at him, considered, and copied him.

“Sit, please.”

She took a seat across from him in that empty hangar. They were separated by a meter. It was oddly intimate.

“First District trained you as much to win the HiME war as an assassin. Did you ever consider why? They wanted you to win, and they wanted you to continue to work for them after winning. Think of the resources they spent; they wanted more than a HiME. They taught you all major languages, how to pretend to be a fool, how to shoot a gun, use a knife, seduce a man or woman—”

Shizuru looked away and tried not to think about what came to mind.

“You’re a weapon.”

“Yes,” she responded faintly.

James Smith studied her and changed his approach. “What kind of career might a weapon have? Do you really think you’ll take a job as an accountant and be happy to sit behind a desk for the rest of your life? A part of you enjoyed killing those men this afternoon. That’s what you did, right? You made it a game, which is why you knew to come here. If you work for Searrs, you’ll be able to do that and go home to your family and pretend you do sit behind a desk all day.”

“And if I refuse?”

He opened his hands and shrugged. “Then we’ll be done. No strings, no threats.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you.” She lunged across their divide and put her knife in his throat. He stared at her in shock, blood frothing up into his mouth, and the knife he’d barely palmed slipped from his fingers.

Shizuru rolled away as a shot was fired. The man she hadn’t managed to kill was still here. She’d heard him breathing across the hangar. She reached her gun, turned, and shot him in the head before he could find her with his aim.

Shizuru stared around her and took in the quiet scene. A trap. It was a trap. It frightened her, made her worry for her family. She needed to get back to them as soon as she could.

* * *

Walking into her home a second time that day felt like déjà vu. It was not surprising to find Natsuki and Haru sitting quietly in the living room, surrounded by the gore of that afternoon, with a woman and two men standing beside them. They were armed, and Natsuki and Haru were not.

The woman was in a black dress, white like the other man had been, and she handled her gun with familiarity. She set her gun against Natsuki’s head and said, “Gun and knife on the ground.”

Shizuru dropped them, and she didn’t react when the men searched her and removed two more knives and the magazine from her rifle.

“You’re quite efficient. Such ruthlessness. Of course these men were expected to die. Perhaps not as slowly as _that_ one. Artful.” The woman nudged one of the dead yakuza thugs with her foot. The katana still pinned the body to the floor. “But to kill my partner as you did… He was a good agent, and he knew to be careful. Your decisiveness was so abrupt.”

"Why are you here?" Shizuru asked quietly.

"James lied, of course. You can't deny Searrs. I don't understand why you would want to. Isn't this what you want? Isn't this better than death?"

Shizuru followed the woman's gesture. She studied this place that used to be her home. It used to be safe, a sanctuary from the realities of First District and the HiME war. Now she took in the entire room, the upended furniture, the blood and gore. She knew Saru-chin's body was just down the hall. She could smell the blood, the waste from the bodies, and the scent of her own sweat. Just like that, the castle had fallen. This place would never be safe again. This place _was_ death.

"No, I don't want this."

"Why?"

There was no easy answer she could give. Shizuru studied this woman, her brown hair, her blue eyes. Unlike her partner, she was beautiful. Her beauty looked cruel. The woman touched her pistol to Natsuki’s neck, tracing the line of it. Black tinged Shizuru's field of vision. “You froze up a little when he talked about seduction. Is that a sore subject? Talk to me about it.”

Shizuru remained silent, looking at the barrel of that black gun.

The woman cocked her gun. “My name is Nancy. You'd best remember to answer my questions the first time I ask.”

“I was twelve.” Shizuru's voice emerged thick and deep.

Haru groaned quietly.

“They made me put my hands on a man. Made me make him come. Then they made me react to him touching me. I lost myself, went away. I came back naked and covered in his blood. He was dead.”

“Not a woman?” Nancy prompted.

“Yes. A woman a week later. I didn’t go away, but I didn’t like it.”

“Did it feel good?”

“Yes,” Shizuru replied, looking at that gun.

“But?”

“I hated myself. It scared me. I never wanted to do it again.”

“Did you kill the woman?”

“Yes. But I didn’t go away.”

“How did you kill her?”

Shizuru focused on the gun. The two men were quietly watching her, and she considered their shifts and stances. Armed, big and strong, probably quick. Who should she kill first? Did it matter? The black was edging in. This was more than the quiet place coming on. She'd been skirting it closer with each violent encounter. “I strangled her.”

“And after that?”

“They focused on the killing.”

“Is it safe to say you feel no empathy for those in pain?”

“I don’t like to hurt people.”

“Or kill them? That seems a lie.” Nancy jerked her chin at the body that was at her feet. Shizuru didn't need to look to know what kind of damage she'd done in the time she'd extracted information from him.

“It’s easier when I go away.” Shizuru felt blackness eroding her thoughts now; her voice came as if from down a long tunnel. “I go away and I can do things that I wouldn’t want to do otherwise. I don't like to because I'm afraid I won't come back. But sometimes it's easier to take that risk."

“Dissociative disorder? That seems risky for First District.”

“They thought they could control her.”

“Her?”

“The one that comes out when I go away. Nancy, you’re pushing me. I’m close to losing myself again.”

Nancy hit Natsuki’s cast with the gun, causing Natsuki to cry out in pain. “Stay here or she’s dead.”

Shizuru’s face ached. She was staring at the picture frame on the wall across the room. Someone was groaning long and hard with every breath behind her. Her hand was sticky with blood; her fingers stuck to the grip. Shizuru looked down at herself. Her clothing was speckled with blood, her hand wet with it. In her grip was the katana, but the blade was snapped off fifteen centimeters from the guard.

She turned around and took in what had happened:  both men were dead. One’s face had been crushed with something. Another’s neck dripped blood; his head was gone. The woman was the one groaning, and she bled from her gut. Gunshot wounds or stabbing? Did it matter?

Shizuru approached her. “I told you I would go away.” She slit Nancy’s neck and tossed her face first onto the floor. It smelled like blood and death in this room. She wanted to burn the house down.

Natsuki and Haru weren’t there. Shizuru walked through the room into the kitchen, following one bloody footprint. They were behind the wide counter of the kitchen. Natsuki had a gun in hand, and she raised it and pointed it at Shizuru. After all this, that was a measure of relief. If Shizuru went away again, Natsuki could defend herself against the evil thing that came out in her place.

“I’m here. It’s me,” Shizuru told her. She set the broken katana on the counter and turned her eyes from her father to Natsuki. “Where is Mother?”

“In the city,” Haru told her quietly. He looked at her as if he expected her to be someone else, but his words were steady and calm. It was what she needed in that moment. “I managed to distract her while Natsuki and I came back to find you. Shizuru, baby girl.”

“I’m me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice broke.

She stared at her father and asked, “Did you know they were going to sell me to them—those people?”

Haru shook his head. It was the truth, and it was so like him to say, “I’ll take care of it. I can fix this.”

She didn't quite believe him. “I hope so. I can’t do this again. The next time I go away, I won't come back.”

As always, Haru didn't address what he couldn't control. “Okay. Men will be coming to clean the house. Go bathe.”

Shizuru looked at Natsuki again before turning and walking back upstairs. Her entire body ached, but she was rooted in it despite the hell that First District had put in her. She’d used this shower earlier in the day for the same reason. Despite the steam coming off the tile, she shivered with cold. Blood slipped down the drain, and her face hurt. She hadn’t had the courage to look in the mirror before stepping into the shower.

Her dog was dead. The sanctuary of her mother's house was shattered. But most importantly her mother and father and Natsuki were safe. For now. Searrs had shown its hand, and now her father could fix it for her. James's words came back to her:  _Do you really think you’ll take a job as an accountant and be happy to sit behind a desk for the rest of your life?_

What James and Nancy and Searrs didn't realize was she wouldn't survive the alternative. There would be no conscious choice as long as they promised violence. Shizuru was back now to face the dark uncertainty of her future created by the monster inside her. Deep, bone-shaking shivers wracked her body as she thought of the scene downstairs, what Natsuki and her father had seen, what she was capable of. She moaned and looked at her shaking hands and the blood stuck to the creases of her palms and fingers. It was all she could do to take deep, gasping breaths against the black choking pressure in her throat.

Last time she'd survived herself because she'd known it would be the end. Duran had killed Kiyohime, and she had faded into nothing with Natsuki. She'd been ready to meet that fate after all the killing. This time, there would be no solace found in Natsuki's arms.

The shower door opened, and she jumped. Natsuki—still clothed, one arm in a cast—stepped into the shower and wrapped her into a hug. Shizuru rocked back against her and sobbed. They sat together in the bottom of the shower, with Natsuki's arm tight around Shizuru's belly as she choked and sobbed and rocked her misery away.

“I love you,” Natsuki said against her neck fiercely. “Okay? I love you. We’ll get through this. We have a future, and it won't be that one. We'll make a different one together.”

For the first time in her life, Shizuru believed those words. She released a shuddering sigh as the pressure around her neck eased. She caught Natsuki's hand in a tight hold. "Together," Shizuru affirmed.


End file.
